The Bloody Blade
by eckles
Summary: What if Xander chose a different Halloween-costume on that fateful afternoon at Ethan's Costume Shop? What if his choice was more ... sinister? What if this choice had an impact upon his life that he could never move on from? Curious? Read on, dear reader, and allow your dark imaginations take over toward how one innocent and harmless decision can ruin a life and end others.
1. Chapter 1

Xander Harris removed one of the plastic guns from the 'Bargain Barrel' and took a deep sigh. Embarrassed that he was going to have make such a purchase as measly as this one in the presence of two of his dearest friends. "Me and my sweet-tooth, thou shall plague my Bank Balance to the bitter end." And as always when he thought of them his eyes shifted protectively towards 'his girls'. Buffy and Willow … but mainly Buffy.

They both stood in the corner of the crowded Halloween festive Costume Shop conspiring together over what outfit to select for the big night ahead. Willow was an easy call for him to make - A ghost. Just like she has been for the last 4-Halloween's, faithful unswayable 'Vanilla' Willow.

Buffy, however was going to go the whole Hog by the look of things; she was hungrily admiring the mannequin with an aristocratic gown on. At spying her intended costume rental he then looked down at the plastic item in his hands. His grip becoming so tight that it cracked the butt of the phoney weapon. He now had no choice but to purchase the damaged goods. He then wondered quickly where anyone had seen the minor vandalism, judging whether or not he could make a quick exchange without anyone noticing. His gaze quickly fell in the direction of the humble Shop Owner, who unfortunately was gazing suspiciously in his direction.

Xander gave in and accepted that he probably would have not 'gotten away with it'. Besides, it just would have meant that someone else may have had to get the now cracked gun and his conscience wouldn't allow that. With this decision made he again looked towards Buffy and a giggling red-faced Willow as they had moved on to the more 'risqué' costumes available.

All this was Angel's influence, he just knew it. If she hired the expensive costume, or a sultry Elvira-getup, it would be because she wanted to impress old 'Fang face'.

To the running Brooke of Buffy's laughter, made obviously at a cute comment by his Will, the 'Protector' noticed a couple of Jocks to his right leering at Buffy and sneering at Wallflower. He couldn't hear what the two were whispering to one another but he knew he didn't like it. He could only imagine the nasty thoughts they were having towards his longest living friend.

Maybe they were supporting and voicing a grudge over the fact that Willow Rosenberg screwed the Grading Curve for whatever class she attended and they just happened to be some of the residents of such classes.

He didn't know. But then again, he didn't have to know. He just knew he didn't like it one bit. In years past he always was Willow's protection from such people, like the athletes and the Cordelia and the Cordettes of the School. But she now had Buff to stick up for her. He was obsolete.

One of the Jock's laughed out loud at the nudging of the other, and his presence of mind was returned to him as he noticed the two were now ogling his favourite Blonde rummaging through some of the sluttier garments available.

If he was half-the man he always wanted to be he would walk up to them and challenge them on their behaviour. That's what 'Deadboy' would have done. But he wasn't Angel. He wasn't dashing, mysterious, or threatening. He was the Class Clown.

Any warning he would have given the 'Letterman' Pair would only have been laughed at. And then Buffy would have to do her usual 'Is there a problem, Guys?' routine and come and rescue him from the big bad Bully-type people.

It was embarrassing. He appreciated her, he always would. But couldn't she see it was humiliating to be rescued by a girl. Especially a girl of Buffy's size. Sure, *he* might know that she was the 'Slayer', but to the 'Sunnydale-Varsity-Elite' all they would see is Buffy Summer's come and pull little Xandy Harris fat from the fire - again.

Man it sucked to be him at times.

Didn't she realize that when she did stuff like that in front of other's at their school she might as well just take a rusted pair of scissors and cut his genitals off in full view of everybody. Because after she 'saved his hash' there was no way he would ever have to be using them again!

Before Buffy arrived at the Hellmouth he had a reputation. He wasn't feared or anything, but he did have a little respect amongst his peers. He had the odd run in with various Bullies at school that used to give Willow and Jesse a hard time because of their Jewish upbringing and smarts. And sure he may have lost more fights then he won, but at least he was known as a guy who didn't back down. Or had to have other's come to fight their battles for them.

His credibility was now pretty much in the toilet.

It was bizarre, against the odd Vamp or Demon Buffy was more than happy to give him his head and risk his life. But against a couple of no-necks, *that* she has to stand in and take away from him every ounce of manhood and pride she could. At their worst all they would do is give him is a black-eye and a couple of bruises. Vampires and Demon's would be out to kill him.

Go figure the workings of the female mind.

At the back of his mind he then wondered if that was why she never, ever, considered him as a potential Boyfriend, only as a Xander-Shaper-Friend. Girl's like to think that their Boyfriend's can, and would, protect them, right?

Was that why Angel had such a secure place with her? Because he could protect her better then him?

He didn't have an answer, but he wished he did. If only to get some closure on this whole Buffy-Him vibe he got from her from time-to-time. If he had a definite answer, if he knew for certain where her affections lay. Then maybe he could move his lustful attentions elsewhere. Maybe even to Cordelia? Nah, that could never happen … could it?

Cordy had been acting nicer to him then of late as opposed to the usual Bitch Queen she always seemed to play, maybe-? Teah, nah, Buffy had him. And what was worst she knew it too. It wasn't malicious, but sometimes he got the impression that she liked stringing him along. It made her feel desired and wanted.

As he approached the cash counter the origin of this thought rose further in his machinations as he began to dissect the Slayer in his head. Maybe, she was always like that? Maybe- maybe it was just her parent's divorce. From the odd bit of the tale he had heard from either Ms Summer's, Buffy or from stuff Buff had confided to Willow and from her to him. Buffy's old-man didn't make any effort to fight for her during custody proceedings.

This discovered truth made him then consider the fallout of such an action. When the only male role-model in a female teenagers life basically say's they don't give a damn enough to fight for you it can only warp their perspective of the gender. Xander shook his head sadly, if this was true then Buffy would forever be scarred and distrustful, always pushing guy's away who reminded her of the slightest element of her father.

Ms. Summers once told him that his energy and vitality reminded her of her 'Ex', it was at the time thought as a complement, but maybe Buffy's subconscious dealt with it differently. Maybe at keeping him interested and yet still at bay, she was also in some way also punishing her Father, even if she was unintentionally taking her passive aggressions out on him. Maybe because of that errant comment by her mother, he will never have a chance to knowing what it was like to have Buffy's heart.

If he had thought that his insight would be appreciated then he would reveal it to her. But the truth is it probably would have only made an argument erupt in denials. She was like that at times. Fickle in her opinions. Whenever she had one of those rare impending 'Dad-Days' with Hank Summer's she would practically soar towards the week-ends. Excited that he had bothered to find a single day a month to squeeze in a six-hour visit.

For the rest of the month however, 'Daddy' was a topic she avoided in a major way.

"Let me guess, Soldier?" The 17-year old was blinked twice as his muse escaped him at the tired and unimpressed English accent that posed the question. "What's the matter Pirate and Cowboy to creative for you?"

Xander looked upon the almond haired middle aged proprietor and held his tongue as he removed his wallet from his rear pocket. Carefully opening it to remove a single and lone $5.00.

The Costume Shop Owner accepted the rough and worldly used treasurable printed piece of paper for a few pregnant seconds and returned to the owner. Then with what sounded like genuine regret in his voice the London laced voice spoke once more. "I won't accept your offering young man."

Xander took back the money slightly insulted at the remark. "What, not good enough for you?"

Shaking his head mournfully the Englishman continued. "No, no. I won't accept it because I don't believe you are happy with your purchase. I've been watching you ever since you entered my store, my boy. This is a reluctant decision. Yes?"

Nodding and placing the $5.00 back into his wallet the 17-yearold counted. "Yeah, but it's all I can afford."

Again the Englishman shook his head. "Tomorrow night is Halloween. It is an evening of Magic, a time when goblins walk and ghouls scarper. Anything can happen on a night like that."

"Not from what I've heard."

"If you are referring to the various 'Tricks' you American's play on one another then disregard what you have been told and take my word. Tomorrow's All-Hollow's-Eve will be memorable. For many reasons. And I will not allow someone, *anyone* to celebrate such a night in a Costume they are not happy with. Even if I have to lose money on the arrangement."

"But I can't afford any*"

"*Prove me wrong!"

"What?"

"Prove. Me. Wrong. Prove to me you American's can be creative in Terror instead of falling back on the standard Cowboy's, Princesses, Ghost's, Pirates, and Witches that litter the evening.

"If you can present me with a Character truly original. And we are not talking your 'Jason's' or Texas-Chainsaw-Leatherfaces. If you can present me with one costume idea that will make my blood freeze at the very thought of you roaming the night unguarded and unchecked. Then I will offer it to you free of charge. All that I ask is that if anyone enquires that you mention you got it at my store."

"Soooooo, you're making a Bet?"

"In the simplest of definitions, yes, it's a Bet. Do you accept?"

An enthusiastic extension of Xander's right hand was made towards Mr Ethan Raines as his answer. The 17-year old then began to move about the shop with fresh purpose, trying to find something that would earn him a free costume hire.

After forty minutes he had in his arms a combination of clothing and props. The store had officially closed ten minutes earlier and Buffy and Willow stood out on the street waiting for Xander to finish with the Bet he had made. Both girls felt it was unfair that Xander received special treatment from the kind English proprietor. But Buffy just reminded herself that she had received a significant discount for the Gown she hired, and once she remembered of Xander's strapped financial situation she was more than happy to wait behind with Willow until he was done.

Through the window of the Costume store he watched Buffy pace and Willow sit on the sidewalk. A smile of accomplishment spreading across his face as he laid his assorted items in front of Mr. Raines. "There."

"What's this?" Ethan turned over an old style dark coat that looked as if it was fashionable in the late parts of the 19th Century. A dark stout 'Gentleman's' hat. A refined and dated suit much in the tradition of cut of the coat. Leather shoes that seemed compatible with the time period. And a leather Doctor's satchel. And a trick-walking stick with a hollowed centre, with a blunted handled blade affixed within

"This is me winning the Bet."

Ethan began to sort through the clothing and items trying to find a common thread that would like it to a Horror-Identity. But he couldn't find one. "I'm sorry young man, but this does not inspire me with any terror."

"And you say us American's have no imagination. Have you tried putting it all together?"

The middle aged man's brow farrowed as he again went through the clothing once more. "I'm sorry but I don't see anything particularly horrifying in any of this ensemble."

"Yeah, well there was a time when this guy terrified the World. His name is still the stuff of nightmares. He was the first ever Freddy Kruger."

"Freddy who?"

It was obvious from the puzzled expression looking at him that shop owner had no idea who he was referring to. "Ahhh, forget it. Sorry, I wasted your time." Xander then turned to leave when his steps were halted two-meters from the front door with a question.

"If you tell me who this is meant to be, and if I concur that this was indeed an original and horrifying costume then you may have it for the night free of charge."

A broad smile crossed Xander's face, he had piqued the curiosity, and now he had a costume that would get Buffy to take notice of him. Even if it was for only one night to admire his terrifying originality. Slowly he turned, and approached Mr Raines. "It's *"

Outside.

Xander walked out of the store with the same satisfied smile that he had used on the Englishman three minutes earlier. Under his arm was a large Brown Paper Bag with several articles of clothing items he had just won from the man inside. As the door was locked behind him Buffy and Willow eagerly approached the male Scooby.

The look on his face was enough evidence to both young women that Xander had indeed won the wager. Both were burning with curiosity. Buffy was the first to ask the question. "Okay, Xand. What was it?"

"Not telling, it'll take away the surprise."

The Slayer fake-pouted at the tease. "Not fair. I showed you mine, you show me yours."

Xander raised his eyebrows at the comment and returned it with a laugh. "I said I'm not telling, but when you find out who I am your gonna just die."

Willow raised her voice to question the male. "It's that good, huh?"

"Mr Raines seems to think so. He thought it was just what tomorrow night will need. An honest to god good touch of terror to bring to the old streets of Sunnydale."

Buffy laughed at the comment. "Are you forgetting that this is the Hellmouth, Xand? Terror walks these streets every night."

A smirk arose on the corner of males Scooby's face. "Not like this Buff. This terror is Legendary. This Terror had people latching their doors and organizing Vigilante Mob's. This Terror nearly bought down a Government and a Monarchy. Annnndddd, I'm still not going to tell you."

Ethan rubbed his hands with glee.

Today was a very good day.

Today was a very profitable day.

And tomorrow night an old debt would be paid to an Ancient God of Chaos.

He was satisfied with all his efforts this day, but they all dwarfed in comparison to his last one of the evening.

Original.

Genius.

And truly terrifying.

The Proprietor looked out his window and spied the young-man in question engaging in a humorous conversation with two young women. A blonde and a red-head. From their comfortable posture it was clear that all three were close and clearly dear friends. A pang of sympathy reached out to both young women, to whom he was certain, would be 'Trick-or-Treating' or attending some other teenage Halloween-themed party the following evening with that very same young man. Never suspecting or knowing the grave danger they were both in.

Because tomorrow night the customers of his Costume Shop would become that whatever their costumes identity would adore them. And tomorrow night Xander Harris would become an evil legend breathing itself back into existence. Spreading a fresh fear into a new Century.

Tomorrow night the hapless women of Sunnydale should beware.

Fore tomorrow night 'Jack the Ripper' would walk the streets and alleyways of Sunnydale.

 ** _THE BLOODY BLADE._**

 _End Trans - or is it ?_

 _With 2015 Halloween just around the corner, I thought I would pull out of mothball's one of my very first efforts into Fanfiction._

 _As always, I love reviews and I would love to hear your thoughts._


	2. Chapter 2

_A Short time after the Halloween Spell had been broken_

What could he do? Where could he go? Who could he trust? These were all very important questions, and they all begged to be desperately answered. But the one that dwarfed them all was a question he could barely accept and reason through. As it was this question that took his conscience and sprit to the brink of madness. It was - 'How could he possibly live with himself now?'

He hugged the dark coat tightly around himself with one arm as he clung on with a death grip to the small leather satchel, mentally cursing the secrets that they kept hidden from the eye's that he felt were falling on him from everywhere.

The journey from the back-alley behind the Bronze was a haphazard one, as he kept to the shadows and darted across unused streets. Circumnavigating the most popular and most direct route to his destination. Doing his utmost best to remain invisible and unnoticeable by people staggering out of their houses to look upon the results of the 'Tricks' played upon their dwellings from the evening before.

Within the chaos of the Hell-o-ween aftermath that now lay scattered upon the streets he hastened his steps. Shaking his head and doing his best to deafen himself to the hissing voice directing and prompting his actions in the despairing journey.

The instinct of avoidance was immense within him; the persona that he assumed earlier that night, no more then three hours earlier, had a ruthless and maddening guileless to it. The cunning of an insane Predator. A sick, remorseless, and insatiable butcher. A 'Butcher' whose residual still remained within him whispering and taunting him with its guidance. With every lapsing moment Xander imagined this 'creature' in the back of his mind burying itself deeper into his psyche like a Tick, as it offered unwanted comments as well as other darken obscenities to his ears.

This was the voice and prompting of 'Jack'.

Typically the effort to the safe haven Port of Rupert Giles home was only several minutes at a casual pace from the popular teenage haunt. This time however it took him considerably longer to complete the adventurous track without drawing attention to himself.

He discreetly entered the innocent Apartment Complex and stood at the front door of the Englishman; its warm wooden finish invited him to knock for entry as dawn's first light began to creep over the horizon. He stood before it motionless, just long enough to forget the time which was passing. Afraid of what would happen to him when that door opened. Just another unanswerable question to add to the ones which were surfacing once more in his fractured mind.

Yes, he had many questions. But worse still then these questions he also had images to accompany them.

Images of Buffy bleeding on her bed.

Images of a terrified Cordelia as he slashed his blade across her throat before she could let out a scream.

Angel of coarse saved the day, as he always did. And for the first time he was sincerely grateful for the Vampire-Hero. He had saved Cordy's life with his well-timed intervention. The surgical knife had cut deep, but it wasn't a life threatening injury. He may have been failing Biology, but he knew enough about anatomy to know that with attendance the Bane of his School Life would live to make that life a misery again.

A misery he now deserved.

Angel was the Cheerleader's saviour, and with luck, God - with a lot of luck, Buffy's as well.

If Dead-boy hadn't tossed him out of the Slayer's bedroom window with all his Vampiric strength and speed it was doubtful that the 'Trollop' and the 'Sinner' would have survived another two-seconds in his psychotic presence.

Xander closed his eyes tightly and barked out ragged sob's that barely gave sound, oblivious to the scene he was now. After all his effort to get here unnoticed he was ignorant of the sceptical he was now making for himself.

This was the first true expression of any saddened emotion aside from genuine shock, horror and fear since he had once more reclaimed that which he was born with - his Body.

The night started out so perfect. For the first time Buffy was paying attention and turned to him rather then Angel. And what did he do with this trust?! He didn't betray it. No, he ravaged it. 'Elizabeth' was a woman with no concept towards her potential as a Slayer. She didn't struggle against him; she didn't see the point of doing so. He was a man, and she but a girl.

She didn't realized that she could have thrown him off her and beat him to a pulp with one arm tied behind her back if she wanted to. All she did was try and scream, and he - 'Jack', was well prepared for that. Opening his eyes and through blurry sight Xander could still see the impressions of Buffy's teeth upon the palm of his right hand. The hand that he had used to cover her mouth and smother her pleas for mercy. And as this travesty played itself out on his dearest friend, all he could do was watch in hapless terror. Feeling a revolution that had no limit as his own hands were used against his will upon a person he felt strongly for. His very fingers used to grip the material of her garment and then ripping it from her very person by his free hand.

After several seconds of light resistance, Buffy - 'Elizabeth', fainted. He then placed her upon her bed and proceeded to bare her flesh to the world. It was a sickening and precise rape that seemed to labour into the hours for him, but in truth probably more likely spanned less then just a minute.

She lay exposed before him, and in all his fantasies surrounding this one woman he could not compare it to the simple beauty of her true form against his exaggerated imagination.

He dreamed of this opportunity in a hundred dreams, to look down upon her nakedness - her exposure. But this wasn't a consensual act of a lover; it was a simple and vulgar violation. He never thought he would feel more sickened then he did after the 'Hyena' episode and his earlier attempt to rape her. But he did now. And when he observed his own hands casually and calmly opens the Doctor's satchel and removed a long handled and stout bladed knife, as well as several other macabre instruments from a bag he knew was empty an hour earlier. A bag that seemed to magically present tools of 19th Century horror. He felt a panic he had never experienced before in his life. He screamed, he hollered, he begged, he threatened but all he got back was an equally amused mental laughter of 'Jack' at his unsuccessful efforts.

When he realised there was nothing he could do he cast his memory back to the beginning of this twisted tale. Desperately trying to divorce and distract himself from the horror about to unfold before his eyes. Casting himself back to the moment he assumed his costume's identity. Anxious to find any Achilles heel, or clue that would enable him to retake control of that which was his by right before the unthinkable and unforgivable happened.

But all he could muster from his memory of the 'transition' was that he felt a deep clawing presence of another in his mind as it began to dominate his whole.

It was a surreal experience; it felt like a twisted nightmare stuck in a hurricane. Yet it also felt 'satisfying'. He felt brazen, confident, intelligent - superior, mentally, emotionally and morally. But these sensation's were momentary, fore as this identity presented more and more he was immediately thrust into the role of an unwilling witness. A 'prisoner' as 'Jack' began to take claim over him. At first he didn't mind so much, but then again he hadn't pieced the parts together at that time.

'He' was polite and cordial. He behaved as a man of breeding and refinement. He also complimented Buffy's confusion, as they were seemingly both 'strangers' in this time. As such she imminently felt a certain kinship for his company, and he liked this. They were both disorientated to the 'Age' about them; and it was like he was living a fairy tale. Through a stranger's eyes he watched Buffy curtsy like a Lady to his sincere compliments towards her beauty and he bowed to her like a gentleman borne. It was like Mr Raines's had promised him. Tonight was a magical one, and he was living his fondest dream.

And it was to him a dream, right up until it then became his worst nightmare. For moments after his 'introduction' to Lady Elizabeth did he then lay eyes on what Willow was now wearing. His mind, that was now not his own, screamed out 'Harlot', 'Trollop', 'Sinner'. A tide of un-natural rage overwhelmed him towards his best-friend's new visage.

One second she was dressed like a Ghost, the next she was presenting like some intangible Punk-Streetwalker. It was at this time the revelation of what had happened struck him as the 'Ghostly-ness' of Willow was revealed. He was his costume. He was 'Jack the Ripper'.

He tried to scream warnings to Buffy and Willow, but no words found a sound. A cold dread formed within his consciousness as he contemplated the repercussions of his costume selection. Hating himself beyond hate that he had ever decided to torture both women towards his identity. If only he had told them, then they would be now aware of the threat he posed to them both.

But instead he chose to play a childish game with them. From Buffy's home to the High School both young woman took stab's at whom he was going as. He was truly enjoying their collective frustration, especially Buffy's. The fact that she was failing in identifying his 'terrifying' character only made her more curious. And a curious Buffy, from his past experiences, was a Buffy obsessed. He had achieved what he had wanted. He had Buffy notice him, and this notice would continue throughout the 'Trick-or-Treating' with the kids as she tried to deduce who he was going as.

Tonight she was not thinking of Angel, she was thinking only of him. Him, and his 'Identity'. And now this lack of knowledge placed his girls - the Women he loved the most in the entire World in the most mortal of danger. And he could do nothing to offer them any warning to this threat that was now him.

'Jack' moved about the street, with Willow and Buffy keeping close company with him as insanity arose about them. Stifled amusement quietly rose in the now alien throat as 'he' observed simple children becoming monsters before his eye's.

From a short distance away 'he' observed a striking woman with no modesty towards the gift that God had bestowed upon her run towards him from another dressed as a Pirate. It was curious that out of everyone upon the insane street this woman chose to run towards him - More amusement enraptured him at this notice. In the back seat of his own mind Xander felt his foreign grip tighten upon the handle of his Medical Bag as Cordelia sprinted behind him and used his body as cover from her would-be attacker.

The 'Pirate' then slowed his approach, and strode mightily forward towards his female quarry. In the back of his mind the Xander-him screamed in elation. Larry had always hated his guts. And in the strength department Lar could clean his clock with ease. And a Pirate Larry with an eye for a half-naked wench was just what the Doctor ordered. One decent punch and it was goodnight for this little Black-Insane-Duck, and Buffy, Willow and Cordelia would be spared any potential harm.

Yet as Pirate-Larry got closer to the 19th Century Madman. The Buccaneer-Footballer paused in his steps. It has been said that there comes a time where when Man confronts true evil that they would know it instinctively. Pirate-Larry, when he came in view of his standing figure and face under the streetlight, knew what he was seeing. What he saw in the eyes of the male Scooby was something akin to something that couldn't be named clearly and it frightened the footballer and chilled his soul. So with this notice the hulking First-String did the most reasonable thing he could at the time and under those circumstances - he turned and ran in the opposite direction.

This 'triumph' only had the three females in his presence cling tightly to him for protection amidst the growing uncertainty of events around them. This pleased 'Jack', as it meant he did not have to go in search of quarry of his own. 'Jack' remembered the ecstasy for doing two-women in one night, now he was going to exceed that record by dispatching three.

The Streetwalker, the Woman with no modesty to the 'Undergarments' she was wearing out in public, and the Ladyship who seemed to have some friendship for the other two walked within his sphere of 'protection'. 'Jack' mentally tut-tut-tutting on how such a person of her 'Ladyship's station was permitted to socialize with such familiarity to those obviously below her; in doing so she had corrupted herself and thus required equal treatment as the other 'Sinners' in his puritanically insane eyes.

For the minutes that followed and for the sake of the unfamiliar environment 'Jack' found himself in, he allowed the red-headed Streetwalker to act as Guide. Upon the Tour they were met by another familiar to them all, but unknown to half their number. A man who called himself 'Angel'.

'Jack' looked with care upon the figure before him. He was not scared, but evil knew evil, and within the body of this handsome stranger 'Jack' sensed a dormant evil to rival his own inclinations. The five then walked towards a grand house, once there the intangible Streetwalker volunteered to leave their company in the hopes of solving what had happened by approaching someone called 'Giles'.

'Jack' began to explore this strange household with its many, many curiosities, much to the annoyance of the brunette Trollop. In doing so he came across a still of himself, the Sinner, and the Tramp all together smiling. The aristocratic woman still at his side met this image with an equally farrowed brow unsure of the significance of it. The period-misplaced pair proceeded to move together about the Summers household, Buffy desperately keeping close to him as 'Angel' somehow frightened her. Both 'temporal strangers' looking curiously upon other various photographs on display with their images upon them.

This only made the bond Elizabeth shared with Jack stronger, as the captured moments-in-time displayed a pair comfortable in each other's presence. Buffy's refined voice enquired whether they were betrothed, in hindsight it was a reasonable question to ask. For a female to be of Buffy's age during the 18th Century and not be engaged or at least promised to another was a rare thing. But this question was hastily smothered with a 'No' from the other two in their company. 'Jack' however was not paying much attention to the discussion. His mind was only focused upon the 'Floozy' and the 'Trollop', and what he wanted to, and *was* going to do to them both.

Xander Harris was an exiled prisoner to 'Jack's twisted desire and this desire would forever damn him. He, the Xander-he, wanted to bark out warnings; he wanted to force his legs to run, and to flee their presence for their own safety. But neither his tongue nor his feet complied with the demand. He knew Jack's thoughts, he could 'see' what Jack saw, and 'hear' what Jack heard. He could also feel Jack's heart skipping to the excitement of when he would be able to have both women alone.

The edgy politeness that dripped from his words easily disarmed both females. Both women wanted him as theirs, he could tell this by their very body language, looks and approaches. The one called 'Buffy', was defensive and hoity when the Cordelia-woman addressed him. The brunette was aggressive, more aggressive in her verbal rebuking then any woman should to a man who was her better. But again, this was a new Age to him and it undoubtedly bred a different attitude. But even so, her words could not disguise her jealous tone at the other woman's continued presence on his arm.

'Elizabeth' saw the interest to her potential suitor by the leotard wearing 'Tiger-woman' and drew 'Master Jack' way so that they could both explore the wondrous estate together - and alone.

The scene that followed in his minds-eye was one he would pay a fortune to remove forever. But it was enough to startle him back to the waking world. Xander drew in a shaking breath and began to feel for the loose brick at the foot of the door. Giles was always leaving his Apartment Key's at the Library so he had a second set made and informed them of it's location in the event of an emergency.

To the brunette male Scooby this certainly rated as one.

Only as he closed the door behind him did he receive any measure of relief, it was obvious from the silence that there was no one else in the dwelling. The Librarian had vacated the home he had made in America for else where. Sweets and bowled candy left available on the Lounge Coffee Table. In a strange way seeing this too was a relief. It meant that Willow had most likely found Giles, and the two had rushed off to address the source of the nightmare that was now his life.

Concealment and the silence was what he desired the most, but neither came. 'Jack' was still speaking to him, daring him. It was insanity. Then a fresh voice was offered out of no-where. You're a Lion who is ready to roar.

The imagined words had him spin around in panic. His eye's zipping everywhere for its source. But he knew its true unhappy origin. It was his memory. A memory of little more then two-hours earlier. The memory of a woman he had just killed.

Xander staggered forward into Giles lounge room and collapsed upon his leather couch. With a shaky hand he instinctively reached over to the large bowl of awaiting candy, hoping that a sugar rush would help settle his nerves as his memories cast itself back hours earlier to when his body was not his own to control.

 _BBBBBBBBBB_

Angel flung him out of Buffy's window, and the 'Jack' that he was, was far too cautious to return and take advantage of the injured and dying with such a physically stronger Protector at their side. So 'Jack' began to seek out other worthwhile candidates to cleanse. Limping from the injury of the second story fall. A dull stabbing pain biting up his right leg.

Yet despite this pain he was not deterred in his mission. With remembered yet troubled footsteps his feet followed the familiar path towards the Bronze. 'Jack' counting himself fortunate that he had managed to grab his Surgical Bag before the Vampire ejected him from his presence. Yet at the same time he was silently cursing that the concealed 'bladed' walking stick, which at this time was so necessary for him, had to be sacrificed and left behind. Homed safely in the Summer's Umbrella stand for retrieval another day.

The journey was taken with an awkward yet still confident tread as mayhem spewed forth about the streets. 'Jack' was easily employing a part of his (Xander's) memory and making a path towards the seedier side of Sunnydale. As he was walking behind the Bronze on one of the short cut's of his host's memory, 'Jack's ears were met with a familiar twang of a fallow country woman speaking out towards him.

"The Moon is singing. Can you hear it sing? It's singing a song of mischief tonight." The voice came from a darkly red dressed, pale woman with raven hair. She was pleasant in appearance and dressed like a Widow clutching a ceramic doll. The gown was tasteful and pricey, but the accent sadly was common one. No commoner could have afforded to be adorned as she was unless of coarse they were someone's Mistress.

'Jack' stopped walking and addressed his newly found prey. " _They say, my Lady, that the Moon is a source of Madness in some_."

"Madness? Really? It never tells me so." The Victorian beauty played with the thrills on her Dolly's petticoat as she spoke again like a child pouting. "Spike, didn't want me to come out to night. He said I'm still not well enough, he said it was dangerous.'

" _Well? Are you ill, my dear? Is this Spike person a Medical Man that he can speak with such authority?"_

This caused an amused and darken giggles from the woman. "Miss Edith, thinks you make fun of my Spikey. She likes you."

By this point the most feared man of the late 19th Century was standing beside his target, gesturing to the Doll in her arm. " _Miss Edith is your, err... companion this night?"_

Nodding slowly to the question she answered. "Miss Edith speaks to me. She has the gift. She and the Moon tell me there is dark potential on the streets tonight and that I must find it. She tells me there is a Lion walking about in a kitten's skin. A ruthless, savage, bad Lion. A Lion I want to introduce to my Spikey. A Lion to add to our Pride. A Lion to tear out the Heart of that filthy, mean Slayer."

" _This Lion that you speak of sounds like quite the beast. Do you truly believe a creature like that can so easily be controlled_?"

The Victorian woman tilted her head in curiosity of the question asked and answered matter of factly. "Why would I wish to control him?"

Xander felt his ... 'Jacks' lips spread at the question as he mentally called out warnings to the strange woman. Hoping that one sentence would break through whatever was keeping his consciousness trapped within his own body. This vulnerable and poor woman was obviously caught up in the same Halloween madness as everyone else was and had become some kind of gothic Eliza Dolittle.

'Jack' slowly placed his hand around the female's corseted waist and seductively whispered in her ear.

 _"Am I being to presumptuous and forward, my Lady? Am I taking one too many liberties with you? I only ask because I feel, deep inside, that we both have needs. Needs that only the other can sate."_

"Ohhhh, I like bold. I like a man who knows what he wants and has the rockeries to take instead of ask."

'Jack' shifted his position, gently blocking her avenue of escape. " _My dear Girl, you have no idea the 'size' of my ... rockeries_."

The corseted lady giggled, raising her doll up to cover her mouth as she did so. "Do you want to be naughty with me? Miss Edith thinks you do. If we are naughty together, can she watch?" A pearly smile was returned to Xander Harris's eyes as the raven-haired beauty smiled seductively at him.

 _"I tend to prefer to take my various liberties with the ladies in private. But if your, err ... Miss Edith ... is willing to keep this matter solely between the 'three' of us, well, I will not object to her bearing witness."_

She clapped her laced-gloved hands together with enthusiasm. "I knew there was a Lion out tonight, and I knew that if I was especially bad that I would find him." Her voice then began to pout once more, and carried an injured whine. "My Spiky was a Lion once. But now all he is is a neutered cub. All thanks to her."

 _"Pardon?"_

"Her! The one that he plays with in his dreams. He thinks I don't know, but I know. But not you. You care only for one thing. You are Fear made flesh. You can bring to her the greatest fear she has ever known. Choice. A choice over Life or Death. The Death of one she loves greatly because of the travesties of a monster. A monster he has become of which is not him. Life - Death? She will not be able to make such a choice. Her mind and emotions will swim in guilt and madness. It will be beautiful. She will rot from the inside-out." She spat out the last claim as though it was both vulgar and addictive.

"You will terrify her and break her heart. And through it all she will feel nothing but sorrow for you and yet love you all the more every time you try to pull away from her. Your fate is her burden. You, my beautiful and ferocious Lion will destroy her just by existing. You are nothing like my Spikey-poo. You're not a kitten. You have teeth and claws and you're not afraid to use them. You're the King of the jungle. You're a Lion who is ready to roar.'

Xander stepped back from the woman with a bemused expression on his face. _"You are truly 'touched' aren't you?"_

Like a purr she replied. "If you behave yourself, you can be the one touching me." With this seductive comment the pale woman gently removed herself from his one-armed embraced and pointed her right index and middle finger at his face making a circular motion's repeating over and over

"My eyes in your eyes. My eye's in your eye's."

When she concluded she easily led 'Jack' towards a closed off private yard behind the popular teenage Night Club. She then turned to close the tall gate behind them, in-order to offer them both undisturbed privacy.

With her back turned to him, 'Jack's smile returned to his face. Quietly he opened his satchel; Xander felt his hand grasp another handled blade and placed the bag down at his side upon the damp paving's quietly. Sneaking carefully up behind the strange woman as she innocently fastened the latch. He then covered her mouth from behind and in another quick clean motion of the night his hand slid the edged instrument across her throat. Only this time the slash was deeper then the one employed upon Cordelia's neck.

In shock the woman dropped her Doll as life flowed from her in dark red. 'Jack', still grasping her from behind whispered into her perfect shell-like ear with a mirthful lithe in his voice. _"Hypnosis my Dear, is not a trick, it's an Art. I have practiced it many times with my own victims. They never had a chance to scream either. So from one 'Professional' to another, yours was second rate and not worth a thruppence."_

 _BBBBBBBBBB_

"OhGod, OhGod, OhGod" Xander sat up from the couch. The memory of what followed with the strange woman after that burning itself further into his mind.

 _Yes, God, Alexander. We did his work tonight, and tomorrow we will toil on some more whores._

"Shut up! You're not real, you're gone! I'm in control."

 _No, Alexander. I am still here and here I shall stay. As to the topic of Control? Please. I give you this opportunity to unite with me. The Cause is Just. The feminie-vermin that pray on the weakness of all men must be expelled. God himself has blessed my Crusade; otherwise I would not have been able to remain. Join with me and I will offer you courage, I will provide you with an intellect, I will make you doubt-less!_

"NO! My Mind, My Body, My Rules."

 _No Alexander. What was 'once' is now past, and what 'is' shall be forever more. We are whole and are one. Resist me if you wish, but in time all resistance eventually succumbs to age. The mightiest of walls and fortresses do crumble to time and the elements._

"I don't care, I'll still resist you."

 _Then you will simply fail. But then again there is very little in your life in which you have not failed. What is one more unflattering achievement to the immense pile of accomplishments that belongs to you._

"You killed her! You killed that woman!"

 _No. I introduced her to death sooner then what she was expected. Death is the one constant in this plain, Alexander. You live and you die. In hastening her end I have aided her in avoiding the further tarnishment of her soul. And in my painful delivery to this end, I am offering her a cleansement of sin's performed. I do this so that when she meet's her Maker she can honestly claim that her travesties and sin's had already been meted out. The whores can then proceed into Heaven unmolestered by their earthly pursuits and weaknesses._

"You're insane."

 _I am also apart of you now, Alex. Even now I am learning what you know of this Age. It is fascinating. I can accomplish much good, and 'save' many women. Just like your friends._

"Oh God. Buffy, Cordelia, Willow!"

 _Ah Yes, the Jew. The Christ-Killer. We will attend to her specially, for the transgressions of her people to our God. She needs to be 'saved' most of all._

"You touch her and - and"

 _Nothing. You will do absolutely nothing._

"No. I'll stop you. Even if it's through my own death, I'll stop you."

 _Now you are being ridiculous and childish. I am offering you everything you ever wanted._

"I never wanted this!"

 _Yes, you did. How many times have you laboured on wanting a purpose in life? - I can give that to you. How many times have you wanted to possess a keen intellect? - It is at your feet. How many times did you want to stand tall in the presence of your peer's?_

"I don't care about that stuff any more. Just go, leave me alone. I'm begging you."

 _With me as your guide, Alexander, you will never have to beg again. Agents of God's Will do not belong on their knees. But I concede that the events of past evening have made you tired and muddled. So sleep on my proposal, sleep well, and sleep justly._

At the closing of the mental sentence, Xander's eyelids became heavy. His breathing slowed and he collapsed onto the soft cushions of the Librarian's sofa. Asleep.

And for the second time in several hours he was proven to no longer have the will of his body at his control.

It was all Jack's.

 ** _JacksBackJacksBackJacksBack._**

Authors post-script:

Well what do you think?

What hell has Xander been flung into?

How will a certain bleached haired Vampire react to the new's of Drucillia's death?

How will the Scoobies react knowing that Xander is quite possibly the greatest threat any of them have known?

How do you stop an innocent man from killing without condemning him to the fate of the guilty?

All this and more will be explored in awaiting chapters

FEEDBACK APPRECIATED


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